For about a month I have struggled with, compartmentalized, succumbed to, and fought with grief. Because about a month ago I lost my zadie (grandfather).
I have been incredibly lucky to have had all of my grandparents for 25 years. That’s 25 years of taking trips to various parts of the country to spend time with family, and 25 years of having my grandparents travel to attend and witness various life events and milestones.
My mom’s father, my zadie, lived in Pikesville, Maryland. It’s a smaller community near Baltimore and it’s the kind of place where nearly everybody knows each other – and if you don’t know someone personally, you know someone who knows them. When we moved from Baltimore to Atlanta, Sovta and Zadie made it a point to visit as much as they could. For years they made the 11+ hour drive to visit. When I sit and remember those visits, and our trips up to Maryland, I’m filled with love and happiness.
One of my fondest memories of those visits where the surprises that came with them. For years Sovta and Zadie would arrive and present us with a new Beanie Baby. I was a prolific collector, and it was probably 100% funded by my grandparents. What struck me, as I reminisced on the collection and the excitement at a new addition, was that I never had a duplicate. My entire collection was filled with different Beanie Babies. My zadie, the meticulous, compassionate, patient man made sure to choose a different cuddly critter to bring every single time. As a kid I loved my Beanie Babies because they were cute, fluffy collectibles. Now I love my collection because it is just one of the many ways Zadie showed his love for me (and my siblings) through quiet action.
It’s been a month, and I still haven’t really processed my grief. When I got the news of his passing, I was heartbroken. I was flooded with a million emotions; pain, love, loss, anger, guilt. The next few days were filled with making plans to get up to there for the funeral and checking in with my siblings. The few days after that were filled with the funeral and shiva services. I had gone into full “oldest sister mode”. That looked like holding onto my siblings for support when we first saw his casket. Volunteering to be a pallbearer because Covid vastly affected what the funeral attendance looked like. Speaking at Shiva so my siblings didn’t have to, and because it felt like the right thing to do. It’s very possible that no one needed me to go into “oldest sister mode”, but I think they knew that it was something I needed to do.
The days and weeks after the funeral were filled with putting the pieces back together. Adjusting to life and trying to shake off the fog. Talking to my therapist and understanding that it’s time I start to process my grief. And that’s why I’m here.
My zadie quietly taught us a lot of lessons throughout our lives. He was patient and compassionate, an important figure in his community and had a knack for doing the right thing. He had a ridiculous sense of humor and quite a bit of intellect and creativity. Like my mom and my uncle said at his funeral, Zadie didn’t live by “do as I say, not as I do”. He was a man of actions.
So much of my grief is shaped by guilt. The “I should’ve called more”, or “I should’ve visited more”. Even though I know Covid radically altered any ability to travel, I’m still carrying the guilt that I didn’t do enough to show him how much I love him. All the sudden I’m faced with mortality again. Realistically I know that no one lives forever, but I didn’t actually consider what that means.
What really helped me through that first week/2 weeks was being around family and messages and support received from friends, employers, and coworkers. Surrounding myself with people who knew and loved Zadie made a difference. Receiving heartfelt messages from friends made me choke up every time, but also made me feel like there was space for me to just not be ok.
I can say I’m doing better now. I still get sad sometimes. And lately I’ve felt the need to be surrounded by people I love. Even if it’s as simple as pinging the family group chat. I have no idea how long it will take me to process my grief completely. I think this time I’m really just along for the ride.
I love you Zadie. Your memory will always be a blessing <3.
James Raffaniello
Dear Maia,
This is James, Rikki’s husband.
On behalf of my family and I we are so sorry to hear of your loss. Please extend out condolences to your dad, mom, Fran, Artie, and your siblings.
My youngest brother John, 38, passed away 2 weeks ago and I echo and sympathize with your anecdotes and grief. I have now lost all 3 of my siblings and like you said time helps, but the pain and sorrow is immense and intolerable now. It was sudden, unexpected, and heartbreaking. I pray that we get through it, but it is very dark time.
I admire your courage and I wish you peace in dealing with your loss. Hang in there and keep family close. Don’t be afraid to ask for support and get your emotions out when necessary.
Best to you and be strong.
Sincerely,
James Raffaniello
Maia Charanis
I’m so sorry to hear about your loss James. Thank you so much for your message, I really appreciate it.
Neil Rubin
Very nice. As the oldest sibling — as was he, as am I, as is your father — you have but one job to do: Make sure everyone else is all right.
Zadie would want no credit for what he did for you, me and so many others.
And to paraphrase Woody Allen (before he became an uber-creep): “Ninety percent of life is showing up. It’s what yo do with the other 30% that matters.”
So just do.